


The Reluctant Hero

by oldenuf2nb



Series: If Wishes Were Children [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied Mpreg, M/M, original characters - children - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-24
Updated: 2011-09-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 07:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16719178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldenuf2nb/pseuds/oldenuf2nb
Summary: Children grow up. It’s a necessary and yet poignantly wrenching part of the life of every parent...





	The Reluctant Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: A continuation of the ‘If Wishes Were Children’ story arc, written on the occasion of her birthday for the person the story was written for to begin with. Happy Birthday, my beloved Sassy_cissa. I told you this story arc was finished but… I lied! I hope this makes you very happy, I hope your day is all that you deserve, and I hope you get some white cake before the sun goes down!!! Love ya to pieces, my dear!

The moment the door opened, Cissa made a beeline for the sofa, and the remote.

Harry had purchased the television when Draco was carrying her, mostly because he’d been confined to bed (or couch, as he liked to protest) for the last five months, and he’d needed something to keep both himself and seven-year-old Jamie occupied during the long hours that Harry was at the Ministry. It was the source of her addiction to television, Draco insisted. She’d been indoctrinated in utero.

Harry wasn’t certain that was true, but his feisty four-year-old did seem to be enamoured of Disney princesses at the moment, her favorite being Ariel, the princess who’d been a mermaid. She asked all sorts of questions about the mer-people who lived in the lake next to Hogwarts, and even though Harry had told her repeatedly that they in no way resembled Ariel and her lovely sisters, Cissa would not be convinced. She believed that Ariel had come from the lake, and she deemed this just one more reason to be jealous that her older brother was going to be able to go to Hogwarts years before she was. She picked up the remote in her chubby hand and waved it at Harry.

“Telly, Papa!” she announced imperiously.

“Please, Narcissa,” Draco reminded her quietly as he removed his cloak and hung it on the rack just inside the door.

“Telly, please, Papa!” She wiggled the black plastic remote urgently. Harry couldn’t help it; he smiled.

“Let’s deal with the coat and boots first, shall we? So that Daddy isn’t moved to scold?”

She scooted off of the high sofa, her feet dangling several inches above the floor for as long as it took her round little rump to slip from the cushion. She landed on her booted feet with an emphatic ‘thump’, and then ran to Draco. Skidding to a halt in front of him, she raised her arms, her black corkscrew curls wild around her head and her cheeks flushed pink.

Draco looked down at her, his brows lifted. “And what can I do for you?” he asked austerely.

“Coat, Daddy. And boots. So you won’t scold.” She waved her arms impatiently, and Draco gave one long-suffering sigh before he leaned over and unbuttoned the forest green velvet coat.

“Papa can deal with the boots and your sweaty feet,” Draco said wryly as he hung her coat on the rack. She wrinkled her nose.

“Feet aren’t sweaty,” she said sternly, dark brows furrowed.

“They most certainly are,” Draco replied. “Being in those boots all afternoon? Sweaty and no doubt odorous.”

She frowned and looked over at Harry in confusion. “It means stinky,” he confided in a stage whisper. Her little heart shaped mouth dropped open in outrage.

“I not stinky!” she protested adamantly, her hands going to her hips. “Girls don’t stink. Only boys stink. Gramma Cissy told me.”

Harry swallowed a laugh even as Draco propped his hands on his narrow hips in an almost eerily similar pose. “She did, did she? Clearly, it’s time for me to have a conversation with my mother.” He sent Harry a sardonic look. “She’s obviously forgotten diaper duty.”

Cissa’s little nose wrinkled. “Diapers are stinky.” Her tone was emphatic. She’d spent the day with her Aunt Hermione and baby Hugo just the week before, and no doubt considered herself an expert on the subject. “Babies are icky.”

Draco angled his fair head to one side. “You think so?”

She nodded emphatically. “They cry too much. And their table manners is atrocious.” Again, Harry bit back a laugh.

“Are atrocious,” Draco corrected gently. “And in that regard, you may be correct. I believe we’ve just finally managed to get all of the oatmeal off of the ceiling.” Cissa had been notorious for flinging the hot cereal everywhere, and her father’s exchanged a knowing look. “Papa, why don’t you deal with the boots and the telly while I get dinner started?”

“I can do that,” Harry replied, then startled Cissa by bending and picking her up, flinging her over his shoulder. She squealed.

“Papa, put me down!” she demanded. “My panties are showing, and Gramma Cissy told me a ladies heels should never be above her head!” She said this as if she were repeating it verbatim, right down to Narcissa’s mildly reproachful tone.

Harry heard Draco snort even as he gave in to his own laughter, crossing to the sofa and letting his daughter drop down onto the sofa cushion. She bounced, then immediately pushed her ruffled skirt down.

“She did, did she?”

She nodded. “She said she’d turn me into a lady if it was the last thing she ever did.”

Harry shot Draco an amused look. “Too late for Daddy, huh?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and he flipped Harry his middle finger before turning and making his way toward the kitchen. Harry watched him go, admiring the way his slacks clung to what was still the finest arse he’d ever seen, and was still grinning as he knelt at his daughter’s feet and pulled off her left boot.

“Daddy can’t be a lady, Papa! He’s a boy.”

“Why, I do believe you’re right,” he said, dropping her boot and reaching for the other. He raised his voice, certain Draco would be listening. “So, it’s okay if a boys heels are above his head, then?”

“Fat chance, Potter,” he heard muttered in the kitchen, and he laughed.

Cissa looked thoughtful. “I guess so,” she mused. “Gramma didn’t say.”

“I’m astonished,” Harry said drily. “I assumed she was an expert in all things.” He set her other boot on the floor, then caught both of her little stocking clad feet in his hands. The soles of her feet were damp, and he bent over and sniffed at them theatrically. They smelled of talcum powder and soap, but he wrinkled his nose.

“Is they stinky?” she asked, looking horrified.

“They is,” Harry answered. She reached for one and pulled it toward her nose, sniffing extravagantly, then sent him a reproachful look.

“No, they isn’t,” she scolded. “You fibbed.”

“I did,” Harry agreed imperturbably, picked up her other foot, and nuzzled the arch with his nose. Immediately, she dissolved in a paroxysm of giggles.

“That tickles!” she squealed. “Stop it!” She tried to pull her foot away, but Harry held on tight.

“A kiss in payment,” he said, nuzzling her foot again. It was a game they’d played since she’d been tiny; ‘a kiss in payment’ for a treat, ‘a kiss in payment’ for a hug, ‘a kiss in payment’ for letting her watch just one more half hour of television.

She leaned forward immediately, grabbing his face between her chubby hands and kissing him loudly on the lips. He released her foot and reached for the remote.

“So, what will it be then, princess? Pocahontas or Cinderella?”

She sent him a reproachful look. “Ariel, Papa.”

“Not Beauty or the lovely Aurora? How about Snow White?”

“Ariel,” she said firmly, and he sighed dramatically.

“All right, once again with the fishy tale.”

Cissa giggled brightly. “Fishy tale!” she said. “Like Ariel’s tail!”

Harry smiled at her as he turned on the television, and then pushed ‘play’. “I thought those were flippers,” he teased, but he’d lost his audience. He heard the sound of the movie and saw Cissa’s eyes widen as she stared past his shoulder, and gave up any further attempts at conversation. Standing, he tossed the remote onto the sofa, then turned to follow his partner into the kitchen.

Draco had held up better than he’d expected, Harry mused as he sank his hands into the pockets of his slacks. When he’d found him sitting in a chair in their bedroom the night before, staring out the window with the tracks of tears on his cheeks, Harry had been afraid that today at King’s Cross would be worse than it had been. He should have known better; Draco was ever reserved and dignified in public. It was only when he was home, within these four walls that he let his true emotions show. And then, Harry was usually the only one who saw them.

There had been much excitement when Jamie’s Hogwarts letter had come. Cissa had been clapping her hands and cheering, and Jamie had been flushed with pleasure. Draco had smiled but Harry had seen the shadow enter his light eyes. As the summer had passed, he’d grown more and more silent, more and more reserved. The trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies had been an interesting juxtaposition; Harry had left the Ministry at lunch time to join his family on the expedition and he’d found Jamie brimming with excitement, Cissa wide-eyed with wonder, and Draco almost painfully composed. Part of that rigid composure was no doubt a reaction to the stares and whispers around them; it was the first time Jamie had come face to face with some of the harsh realities of life as his fathers’ son. He’d born up admirably, head high as he’d held his sister’s hand; Harry had never been prouder, and it laid to rest many of his worries about how Jamie would deal with being a Potter-Malfoy at Hogwarts. James would be fine; he wasn’t as certain that Draco would be.

He paused in the doorway. Draco was standing across the room, a sauce pan forgotten in his hand as he stared out through the kitchen window at the night sky. Harry sighed silently, then crossed to him, taking the pot from his hand and setting it on the counter before returning to slip his arms around Draco’s narrow waist. His partner stiffened for just a fraction of a heartbeat, then his back curved and his head fell forward even as he leaned back into Harry’s embrace.

Harry pressed his face to the exposed back of Draco’s neck and just held him for several minutes. Finally, Draco took and released a deep breath and straightened, his hands coming to cover Harry’s on his flat abdomen.

“Do you suppose they’re there yet?” he asked in a voice just slightly above a whisper. He sounded hoarse, and Harry tightened his arms around him.

“Probably,” he answered, pressing his cheek to Draco’s. “They might even be across the lake, already.”

“McGonagall won’t be the one meeting them, will she?”

“No. Actually, that will be Neville,” Harry answered. “It’s always the deputy Headmaster.”

Draco nodded, exhaling. “That’s good. Longbottom knows James; he’ll know if he’s frightened, and he’ll know just what to say to him.”

“He won’t be afraid, sweetheart,” Harry said gently. “It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been to Hogwarts.”

It wasn’t; Harry had been teaching a Defence course every fall for the last four years, and Jamie had gone with him every time. He sat in the corner, wide-eyed as the class stood and applauded when his father was introduced. It was another of Harry’s prouder moments.

“It’s different, Harry,” Draco countered. “Then, he was just visiting. Now, he’s going to be living there…” Draco’s voice broke, then drifted into silence. There was a long pause. “I’m not ready for this,” he murmured finally, so softly that Harry could barely hear him. “It happened too fast, came too soon.”

“I know.” Harry leaned his head forward, resting his chin on Draco’s shoulder. “It seems like it was just yesterday, doesn’t it? I came back and found you in that hut, in labor…”

“And heroically destroyed the emergency room in order to get me treatment once you’d recovered your capacity for speech,” Draco said wryly. Harry smiled.

“Yeah, after that.”

There was another poignant silence. “She’ll be gone next, and then what do we do?” Draco said, sounding faintly lost.

“Play grab ass in the kitchen?” Harry offered, hoping if he teased him Draco might feel better. “Fuck on the sofa?” He grunted when Draco’s elbow connected with his ribs.

“Do you ever think of anything else?” he asked, his voice tart.

“Hard to, with you in my arms,” Harry replied, pressing his hips forward. “You’re sexy.”

“And you’re ridiculous,” Draco replied, sounding irritated. “Our son has left, and our daughter is…”

“Four,” Harry said, lifting his head to press a kiss on Draco’s cheek. “And currently watching a princess with fins in the living room. She’s not leaving us for another seven years.”

“It will go by so quickly,” Draco persisted. He turned in Harry’s arms, and looked into his eyes. “Does it feel as if it’s been eleven years since Jamie was born?”

Harry studied the hurt in Draco’s pale eyes, and didn’t have the heart to tease him any longer. “No,” he said, his voice solemn. “It doesn’t. And it doesn’t feel as if it’s been four since we had Cissa, either. “ He reached up and cupped Draco’s cheek with his hand. “And you’re right; the next seven years are going to fly by, and then she’ll be off to Hogwarts too, and it will be just the two of us.”

Draco studied Harry’s face, his expression hopeful. “It doesn’t have to be; we could have another.”

Harry sighed softly. “Draco, you know what the healer said after Cissa was born,” he murmured. “Your body can’t handle another pregnancy, and I’m not interested in risking your health.”

“Oh, that healer!” Draco said dismissively. “I’d be fine…”

“You wouldn’t be,” Harry countered. “And you can’t ask me to risk a loss I’d never recover from.” He softened his tone when Draco grimaced. “Sweetheart, we can’t have a baby every time one of the kid’s goes to Hogwarts.”

Draco’s eyes flashed for a moment, then the fire went out of them and his shoulders rounded. “I know,” he said. “I just…” He ran one hand through his hair, leaving it uncharacteristically tousled. “Doesn’t the house seem… empty to you?”

Harry pretended to think about it for a moment, then angled his head toward the doorway, through which the strains of a crab singing ‘kiss the girl’ was floating. He raised one brow, and after a moment a grudging smile curved Draco’s lips.

“Okay, fine. Although crab Louie never sounded so good.”

Harry smiled, then leaned forward to kiss him gently. He meant it to be a soft, quick kiss, a reassurance, but Draco curled his hand around the back of Harry’s neck when he would have pulled away and angled his head, parting his lips, tacitly inviting Harry’s tongue into his mouth. They kissed for a long time, until Harry had his hand on Draco’s arse and Draco had arched his hips forward, rubbing the bulge growing at his groin against the one that had already hardened at Harry’s. Harry finally pulled back, taking a deep breath.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this more than I can say,” he said, and his voice sounded deep and raspy even to his own ears, “but there’s a four-year-old on the sofa who is going to remember that we’re in here when that DVD ends. And if there isn’t food, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

Draco leaned his forehead against Harry’s chin and chuckled. “Truer words.” He sighed. “We could always order out?”

Harry squeezed him, then stepped back. “Excellent plan. Pizza, or Thai?”

“How about Chinese?” Draco said instead. “I could send an owl to the new place on Diagon Alley?”

“Sounds perfect.” He started to turn, but Draco caught his arm. He turned back, waiting.

“You think he’s going to be all right, don’t you?” he asked, his voice small.

Harry smiled. “I think he’ll be brilliant,” he answered. “Besides, parent’s weekend is in two weeks, and my class series starts two weeks after that. You and Cissa can come with me this year; we’ll make it a family outing. Neville already told me we can have lodging in the castle, and we can prove to her highness in there that yearning to have a flipper may not be all it’s cracked up to be.”

Draco smiled slowly. “You have this all figured out, don’t you?”

“I try.”

Draco leaned in and kissed him again, this time the brief kiss Harry had originally intended. “You succeed more often than you fail.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “Good to know. I’ll remind you of that the next time I bollix things up royally.”

Draco sniffed. “It won’t help you.”

“I didn’t for a moment think it would.”

 

The Chinese food had been all but consumed, even though Draco thought that the moo goo gai pan was insipid, and they’d been conferring over fortune cookie messages by the time the tapping came at the kitchen window. Harry glanced over and saw the snowy white owl, wiped his mouth quickly and crossed to open the window. He’d been swamped with nostalgia when Jamie had picked out the beautiful young owl at Eyelops. Then grinned when he’d named her after Draco’s old owl, Cassiopeia.

He took the letter from the bird, feeding her a treat and smoothing his hand over her soft feathers before turning back to the table. “It’s from Jamie,” he said unnecessarily.

“He’s written to tell us what house he sorted,” Draco said. He tossed his napkin onto the table. “Just open it and put me out of my misery.”

Harry shot him a look. “Would it be so awful if he was in Gryffindor?”

“Not at all,” Draco said, waving his hand. “After all, you’re a Gryffindor, and clearly, I can stand you.”

“Good to know,” Harry quipped.

“It’s just the idea of Weasley’s glee that give me heartburn.”

Harry made a mental note to tell Ron to keep the ribbing to a minimum as he slipped his fingers under the wax seal. He pulled the note from the envelope, and smiled when he saw Jamie’s uneven scrawl. He began to read.

“Daddy, Papa and Cissa;

I’ve been sorted. I am in…”

Harry read the line once, then once again, feeling as surprised as he’d ever been about anything. He blinked and read it again, just to be certain his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Even though he’d never have said it aloud, he’d assumed that Jamie would sort Gryffindor as well, had even told him that the hat would take his wishes into account.

“Well?” Draco prodded.

Harry read the line again, then held the letter out to Draco.

“You’re going to be shocked,” he warned. Draco sent him a frown as he took the letter, then turned it and began to read. Harry watched Draco’s expression go from stunned, to disbelieving, to outright glee.

“Slytherin?” he said finally. “James sorted into Slytherin? I can’t believe it!”

“Is that the one with the snake?”

Harry and Draco, having forgotten for a moment that their daughter was in the room, both turned to her.

“Yes, darling,” Draco said, grinning. “That is, indeed, the one with the snake. I can’t believe it!”

“That’s the one he wanted.”

Now her father’s turned their full attention to her.

“Jamie wanted to be in Slytherin?” Harry asked. Cissa nodded as she crumbled her cookie into tiny pieces. He sat down and leaned forward onto his elbows. “How do you know that, honey?”

“He tole me,” she answered easily.

“When, Cissa?” Draco asked.

“Lass night, when you and Papa was in the kitchen. He said that Papa had tole him that some people weren’t very nice to the ones with the snake, and Jamie said that maybe if he was in it, they’d stop bein’ mean.” She looked up, her grey eyes very wide. “Do you think they will, Daddy?”

Draco stared at her for a long moment. “You know, I think people would find it very difficult justifying being ugly to one of Harry Potter’s children, even if he is a Slytherin.”

Harry thought about Jamie’s reasoning, and the more he did, the more it sounded just like something Jamie would do. He sent Draco a fond look.

“And you’ve always said he’s just like me,” Harry scoffed. “He’s a Slytherin, Draco. Just like you.”

Draco smiled, but slowly shook his head. “No, he’s you, Potter. Through and through.”

“I don’t see how you figure,” Harry scoffed. “He just sorted into your house.”

“Probably because he asked the hat to put him there,” Draco said pointedly. “Just like you asked it not to. He’s you, Potter.” Draco’s expression gentled. “A reluctant hero, making choices for the greater good.” He reached across the table and took Harry’s hand, linking their fingers, and stared into Harry’s eyes. “Harry, he’s you.”

He lifted the back of Harry’s hand to his lips, and Harry swallowed against the sudden lump that filled his throat.


End file.
